Pressure
by Raquelita
Summary: Daenerys understood pressure. She felt it every moment of every day – even in her dreams. And she knew that if she let him, Jorah could be her stronghold.


**A/N: This one has been bouncing around my head for awhile. Enjoy! **

Pressure.

Daenerys understood pressure. She felt it every moment of every day – even in her dreams. She'd once thought she knew the meaning of the word. She had thought that "pressure" was being made to marry a Dothraki Khal so that her brother could get his army. She had thought "pressure" was being a good wife to a man she'd never met. "Pressure" was succeeding in marriage for her brother's sake. Her family's sake.

She had known nothing then.

Daenerys pulled back the flap of her tent and looked out at the thousands of men in her camp. The responsibility of the task ahead was daunting, to say the least. Lead an army, win a war, become a Queen, and then maintain an entire kingdom until the end of her days. Sometimes, although she would never admit it out loud, Daenerys longed for the simple days when her only job was to be a good wife. It was not that she wanted to go back to that – she was capable of so much more. But the comfort and safety of being in another's arms … she missed being enveloped in the strength of a man who loved her.

"You look troubled, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah approached her tent with a worried look on his unshaven face.

"It is nothing," Daenerys said quickly. She could see in his eyes that he didn't believe her, but she ignored it. "Night will fall soon. We should make fires and do what we can to provide the men with food."

"You know they do not need to eat, Khaleesi. Not as you and I do."

Daenerys gave him a sharp look, "They do not _need_ to eat, Ser Jorah, but they should be allowed the opportunity to do so if they desire."

Ser Jorah nodded, and Daenerys reminded herself that he still saw these men as soldiers, not people. He couldn't help it, she knew. She would simply have to train him to think otherwise. A person could be both man and soldier, not just one or the other. No one was so easily labeled – she was proof of that.

"And you, Khaleesi? Will you eat?"

"When they have," Daenerys nodded to the men.

"Please, Khaleesi, do not wait on the-"

"Do not tell me what I should and should not do, Ser Jorah. I fear you're becoming too fond of the notion."

Daenerys turned and let the tent flap fall. She had enough to worry about without Jorah's insistence on advising her when she did not ask. Perhaps she had been sharp with him, but his presence made her anxious and ill at ease. Seconds later, he entered her tent.

"I am sorry," he said, "I spoke out of turn."

"And now you have entered a Queen's tent without being invited."

"I-" Jorah paused for a moment, "I beg your pardon."

"Wait," Daenerys said as he turned to go, "Wait. That was harsh of me. The past weeks have not been easy," she cleared her throat, "Please accept my apology."

Jorah looked at her in a way that Daenerys had learned to ignore over the past several months. It was more than the way a knight would look at his queen.

"I wish you would let me help you, Khaleesi," he said quietly.

"You do help me," Daenerys replied, trying to keep her tone light, "That is your job."

"You know I do not just speak of political counsel."

Daenerys was silent. She knew perfectly well what he really meant. She'd known for a long time, but she had chosen to ignore it. There was too much to do. There was no time to cloud her mind with the complicated feelings that seems to appear every time she was alone with Jorah. Too many people were counting on her. A kingdom was counting on her – at least she hoped they were.

Jorah moved toward her tentatively.

"Please," she said, "You should leave now. Go and help the men with the fires."

"You do not want me to leave."

"I command you."

"And what is a knight to do when his queen commands something that he knows she does not want?"

They were inches away from each other. Daenerys could feel the sparks crackling between them. It would be so much easier now if he would listen to her and walk away. This was not a distraction she could afford.

"Tell me to leave once more," Jorah whispered, sliding his rough hands around her waist, "And I will."

Daenerys knew she should tell him to leave. She should have him beaten for disobeying direct orders and daring to place his hands on a queen.

"You are too bold," She meant for the words to be a warning, but when she spoke she could barely hear her own voice.

"I am waiting, Khaleesi. You still have not told me to go."

When she was silent again, Jorah sighed. Daenerys felt his hands loosen on her waist and knew that he took her silence for an unspoken request to go.

"Wait," she said suddenly, grabbing both of his hands before they left her body. Jorah looked at her, surprised. His eyes asked one million questions.

Daenerys took a deep breath. "Stay with me."

It was all she needed to say – all she'd ever needed to say. And it was a relief to speak those words and admit what she had wanted for so long.

Jorah took her face in his hands, caressing her cheek. Daenerys felt her breath hitch as he lowered his lips to hers. She could tell he was trying to be gentle, but she did not want gentleness. Pushing herself against him, Daenerys melted the space between them and tangled her hands in his hair.

If only for tonight, she would find release.


End file.
